


Only Us Monsters

by darkswordstill



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, none with Sirry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 12:38:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19476088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkswordstill/pseuds/darkswordstill
Summary: Harry Potter was a troublemaker as a kid, but now that he's an adult things have gone from bad to worse.  He's imprisoned, waiting on an appeal to work it's way through the system, in a place he never wanted to be.  Some of the criminals seem to recognize him, and know more about his past than he does.  How will he stay safe, with no friends, no allies, and no one to turn to?This is a prompt fill for the Sirry Summerfest! I hope you enjoy!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [This_is_your_Heichou_speaking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_is_your_Heichou_speaking/pseuds/This_is_your_Heichou_speaking) in the [SirryFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SirryFest) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Harry, falsely accused and wrongfully charged, meets his parents' murderer in prison.
> 
> Of course, not all is as it seems, and Sirius is all to ready to protect Harry where he once failed. Even if it means pretending that he's fucking Harry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, this is a prison fic. There will be strong language, threats of rape, violence, and generally not so nice things. No non-con/rape between Harry/Sirius, and none on screen. Currently this is rated mature, it may change to explicit if I can write it the way I want to. ;) This is set in a vaguely American prison, as I don't know enough about the English criminal justice system to do it there. I currently forsee about 5 or 6 more chapters.

Two weeks. He’d been here two weeks so far. Twenty years was an eternity, broken down into hours and days and weeks, but what else could he do? Harry stared blindly up at the concrete block ceiling above him. His grey jumpsuit scratched against the thin rough brown blanket underneath him. He could hear the patrols moving through the prison, the chatter of the other inmates as they traded information and threats. He shivered, curling over onto his side, his back to the open door of the cell and the empty bed on the other end. He took a deep breath, hoping that if he just held his breath, he could will away the tears that welled up in his eyes. Two weeks since they shoved him in this box, but it was three months since his life ended. Losing the battle against gravity, he quickly wiped away the escaping tears. He couldn’t let the other criminals know how weak he was. (But I’m not a criminal!) (But here you are, Harry. Locked up like all the other monsters in this hellhole) Even the voice in his head was mocking and harsh. He took several more breaths, in through the nose, and out through the mouth, just like his anger management counsellor had taught him.

Harry froze when he heard a group of four pairs of booted feet stop right outside his cell. He quickly pushed himself until he was sitting on his bed and cautiously eyed the group of guards, through his unruly mop of black hair. The one in the front, McLaggen, smirked. “Vacation is over, Potter. Your roomie is back from the hole, congratulations! Or is it condolences? I’m not a college boy like you, I don’t know those big words.” Every word was sneered, thrown like weapon. 

Harry’s shoulders curled, and he wrapped his arms around his stomach. He nodded quietly. One of the other guards stepped around McLaggen’s blond bulk, and shoved a thin, dark haired man to the other bed. “Play nice this time, Black. Screw up again and it won’t be a year in the hole, it’ll be forever.” The darker haired guard grinned at the threat, then continued. “Give me an excuse. We all know why you’re here.” He spat on the ground in front of the other prisoner, glared at Harry and they withdrew, shutting the door behind them. 

The younger man looked nervously at the door, then his new cellmate. None of the other doors had been closed yet, but it wasn’t the first time he’d been locked in early. He studied the other man nervously. He also wore the grey jumpsuit, but it wasn’t done up the front like Harry’s. His was open to the waist, displaying a white wife beater tank top, and dozens of tattoos. The blue-black lines showed through the thin fabric of his shirt, as did an impressive collection of lean muscles. Harry’s eyes traced up to the older man’s face, noting the warm tan of his skin, and stuttering to a stop on his cold grey eyes surrounded by deep set crows feet. He looked like he was at least twice Harry’s age, likely around forty. “Like what you see, kid?” Harry froze like a rabbit, not sure which answer was the safest. “Name’s Sirius Black. What’s yours?” Black scooted back, leaning against the wall, one leg bent at the knee, the other extended off the edge of his bed. His voice was scratchy from disuse.

“Um. Uh, Harry. Harry Potter.” He stuttered over his words, his fear clear in his voice. Harry looked down at his blanket, picking at a loose thread. Sirius’s eyes widened, and he stared at the kid across from him, quickly cataloguing his features. He cast his eyes up to the ceiling, then looked back at the younger man, and gave a loud bark of a laugh.

“Who the hell did you piss off to get put in here with me?” His eyes gleamed with madness, his grin too wide to be friendly. His teeth looked sharper than normal, and the air in the cell crackled with electricity. “Sweet lookin’ boy like you... and they put you in my room? Hah!” He cackled until he started coughing, then settled, leaning back against the wall.

Harry rubbed his arms, trying to smooth out the goosebumps covering him. “I guess.. I guess everyone.” He looked away, studying the cell across the narrow hall. No one was sitting in there, so he studied their beds, trying not to look at the madman sharing his cell. 

“You must have...” He laughed, the hint of madness now an overwhelming wave of insanity. Harry stole a peek at the other man out of the corner of his eye, not wanting to get caught staring again. 

Before they could continue, a bell rang and the rest of the prisoners made their way back to their cells. The chatter seemed louder today than it did yesterday, but Harry was half convinced that was just his imagination. As soon as the pair that lived across the hall slipped into their cell, the doors all clanged shut. Rod, a tall brunet in his mid thirties, laughed when he saw Black. “So, rumors were true, they let you out! How long you gonna stay out this time, Black?” He taunted the other man, a mean grin on his face. “How are you gonna get sent back down this time? Murder again?” 

Sirius turned his maniacal grin on Rod, finally looking away from Harry’s profile. “Wait and see, Roddy, maybe you’ll get to find out up--,” he paused, moving faster than Harry thought possible, to grab the bars directly across from Rod. “close and personal....” Harry could see him lick his lips, and smile with too many teeth. He glanced back to Rod, still curled up with his arms around his knees on his bed. 

Rod shivered and walked away, muttering. “Whatever, you’re gonna be gone in another month anyway. Never lasted longer than that outta the hole.” 


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Harry slid his tray through the cafeteria line, briefly meeting the eyes of the inmate behind the line, serving up the food. He was small and thin like Harry, but his eyes were brown and his hair dirty blond. He whispered, under the cover of clattering dishes from the dishwashing station, “Did you sleep last night? I wouldn’t have been able to. Black’s outta the hole, right?” He glanced around, surreptitiously checking to see if anyone else was paying attention. Colin was intense, just like every other conversation they had had, but he seemed even jumpier than normal. “I mean, you know what he did, and to ---” Another tray slammed down right next to Harry’s, interrupting the smaller man.

“Harry! What are you talking about? Is this your boyfriend?” He eyed the other inmate, disdain clear on his face.

Harry glared at his cellmate, then shot Colin an apologetic look. “No, he’s not.” Harry’s teeth were gritted and he barely shoved the words out. The fear he felt yesterday was still roiling in his gut, but his annoyance at Black’s pushiness overwhelmed it. 

Black grinned wildly at the spark he saw igniting in Harry’s eyes, but before he could speak again, Harry gathered his breakfast and made his escape. Over his short residence, he had found a table near the outskirts, one that was far from the food and the door out, and less preferred by the others. He hunched his shoulders as he leaned forward to eat his reconstituted eggs and toast, kicking himself for reacting so visibly to Black’s prodding.  _ How hard is it to just keep your stupid head down? Now Colin thinks I’m hitting on him, and Black knows how to provoke me. Stupid Stupid Stupid.  _

The rest of the day, Harry followed the pattern he had worked out over the past couple of weeks. He kept to himself, keeping his head down, his back to the wall. He slipped out into the yard, making sure to keep close to the wall of the prison. The fenced area had sparse grass struggling to survive, benches along the two sides, and guards patrolling. Many of the men took the opportunity to smoke, drifting off to the fence furthest from the doors. The benches were occupied by the various gangs Harry had observed. One was full of skinheads, a group of about six white men with shaved heads and tattoos promoting the Aryan nation and white supremacy. Almost directly across was a group of mostly black guys, all muscled and hard looking with prison tatts. Harry had heard rumors that they were all from the same gang on the outside. One of the other benches was mostly hispanic guys. The one bench that really stood out, though, was occupied by a group that didn’t seem to be confined by race. Rod and Barty, his across the hall neighbors claimed prime seats towards the middle of the bench. A Russian called Dolohov simply rippled with muscles. He stood behind the bench, watching everyone with cold dead eyes. Rumor said that he was in for murdering more than a dozen people. At the center of the bench was a slim, bookish looking man Harry had heard called Rookwood. He looked like an accountant, but even the biggest bruiser watched him with fear. His eyes were cold and snakelike. 

Harry leaned up against the wall off to the side, still in close proximity to the relative safety of the guards. He quickly got caught up in conversation with Colin again, discussing what the next few meals were going to be. Before he knew it, his cellmate sauntered out. Sirius stopped and looked around at the various groups as he entered the yard, and pulled out a cigarette. He lit it so quickly that Harry never even saw a match, and turned to face Rookwood’s group. He grinned at them, and stalked over. Harry could just make out the grumbles from the men and the occasional slap on the back in welcome. He stared openly, trying to figure out the dynamic between them. Suddenly every hair on the back of his neck stood up and his whole body shivered. He turned his head slowly, feeling someone standing in his blind spot. As he turned his head, he could feel warm moist breathing on his cheek. He jumped and tried to back up quickly, but was held tightly by a lightning fast hand on his bicep. “If you’re that interested, you could just come over and talk to us, Harry.” He shivered, the innocent words somehow sounding like a threat. The man holding him had short brown hair, and blue eyes so light they looked clear. His features were average, but something about him spoke of danger. 

Colin took one look at the guy holding onto Harry’s arm, then at Harry, and shook his head before retreating. Harry shivered again. “N-no, it’s cool, I’m cool man. I just--”

The man leaned even closer, pressing his nose into Harry’s neck. “Pretty young thing like you? No one would say no to that.” Harry closed his eyes, dread coiling in his stomach. He slowly tried to pull his arm free, but the other man was obviously far stronger than him and not willing to release him. 

“I don’t want any trouble, I just--” This time before he could continue, he felt an arm drop around his shoulder. He looked over at the hand first, then up to the man draping himself over him.

“Fuck off, Rosier. He’s too old for you anyway. Harry’s mine.” Sirius glared at the other man’s hand on Harry’s arm, and pulled Harry closer to him, pressing Harry into his front. 

Rosier glared at him, but slowly released Harry’s arm. “Whatever man, it’s not like you’ll have him long. You’ll get yourself tossed back into the hole in no time and then...” His eyes shone with unholy glee, and he looked at Harry again, licking his lips then grinning. “So you keep him for now, Black. It won’t last.” He shoved Harry hard into Sirius’s chest, and walked over to drop into a spot that opened next to Rookwood.

Catcalls erupted from the bench as Rosier leaned over to talk to Rod and Barty. Sirius flipped them off, and drew Harry into a corner, keeping his arm firmly around Harry’s shoulders, despite his efforts to shrug it off. As soon as they were near enough the wall, he pushed Harry into the corner, caging him in with both arms and leaning close to whisper into his ear. “Look, kid. Rosier is fucked up. He’s in here for diddlin’ kids. Mostly boys. Younger than you, but he’s not that picky.” Harry looked up into the grey eyes staring at him intensely, a coil of fear in his belly. Sirius continued, leaning even closer, his lips brushing Harry’s ear. “I can keep you safe from him.. From the rest of them. They know what I’m willing to do, they won’t get between us.”

Harry drew a ragged breath, trying to ignore the hot breath in his ear, the soft lips brushing his ear. “Wh-wh-why would you do that for me? You don’t know me. What do you really want?” His voice quivered, only partially with nervousness. This was the first gentle touch he’d received since he was arrested, and his body wasn’t able to ignore it. He could feel the slow awakening of desire in his belly as he stared past Sirius, looking at a cloud floating past in the clear blue sky. He forced his hands down to his side, trying to mask the abortive movement towards the taller man penning him in. His breathing was fast, and his pulse rabbit quick in his throat.

Sirius sighed, then pulled back just a little so he could catch Harry’s eyes again. He smiled, sadness clear in his eyes, overwhelming the insanity for the first time since Harry met him. “I knew your dad, back in high school. Not sure how a kid as innocent looking as you ended up here, but you’re too soft. They’ll eat you alive.” He slid a finger along Harry’s jaw, smoothing his thumb over his mouth, before returning it to the wall and leaning in. “I can’t let James Potter’s boy die in here.” 

Harry froze, his heart pounding even harder in his chest. Before he could respond, Sirius continued. “Think about it, kid. Stick close to me while you’re doing it, but think. I can keep them from touching you. I can ... I can do what I promised your dad I would do, back when we found out you were coming.” Harry let out an explosive breath, and tipped his head back against the cinderblock wall behind him. He licked his lips, trying desperately to moisten his mouth. 

“Say I believe you. What.. what exactly do you want from me? How--how far?” He couldn’t fight the blush that consumed his whole face. Slowly, he brought up one of his hands, inside the cage of Sirius’s arm. He reached out, almost touching Sirius’s hair, but pulled his hand back and shoved his messy raven locks out of his eyes instead.

Sirius smiled at him, a softer one that he had seen before, and leaned back into Harry’s shoulder, whispering into his ear again. “Just as far as you want to, baby boy.” 


End file.
